The Westerby Sisters (Changing Fortunes Series)

by M C Beaton

  "I shan't see her," said Hester. And then, "La' if I do not, she'll be making sheep's eyes at the Captain."

  "Thought you didn't care for the Captain," teased Betty.

  "Well, enough not to want to see him in the claws of that harpy," sniffed Hester. "I'm going down."

  "Not in our dowdies!" cried Betty, pointing to their nightcaps. "Hester, please."

  "Oh, very well, I'll put a mask on."

  "No one wears a mask with their undress these days, Hester. Be a love and put on your pretty gown. Just think what a fright you will look set against Fanny. Oh, Bella, please do Hester's hair. At least she was not wearing powder last night so it should not be so difficult. And send my maid to me. Oh, and send word to the company that we shall be with them shortly. And then, when you have finished with us, Bella, see if you can rouse Lord Simon. He must be still abed."

  Belowstairs, Captain Jimmy was wondering if his love ever meant to appear as the seconds ticked away into minutes and the minutes added up to three-quarters of an hour.

  He had found Miss Bentley strangely difficult company. He had digressed on all sorts of topics and had found all his conversational sallies met with monosyllables. He tried to accustom himself to delivering monologues since he was nervous and could not bear waiting in silence. He had just launched forth on a dissertation about the lamentable practise of leading actors being dressed for their roles in the cast-offs of their aristocratic patrons and what a figure of fun had been the Othello of James Quinn in a large powdered major wig and blackened face and Mrs. Yates as Lady Macbeth in a hoop eight yards in circumference and it was all nothing compared to Garrick's appearance as Othello in a regimental suit of George II's bodyguard with a flowering Ramillie wig, when to his great relief, Betty and Hester followed by Bella walked into the drawing room.

  Captain Jimmy expressed himself delighted to see them both, but had eyes only for Hester who looked quite striking in a house dress of light blue lutestring cut very low on the bodice and with a saucy little cap of blue gauze and gold lace on top of her carefully dressed curls.

  Betty was dressed in a darker cornflower blue silk which matched her eyes. Her eyes looked extraordinarily vivid since her new maid, Rosa, had persuaded her to darken her lashes slightly with lamp black.

  Hester curtsied to Captain Jimmy and gave him a singular saucy smile, considering she still professed to hold no feelings of any warmth toward him. Then she turned on Fanny and gave her a curtsy which was more a bob and demanded coldly, "To what do we owe this pleasure, Fanny?"

  "I-I w-was passing," faltered Fanny, "and felt I would like to call and see how you go on."

  "We go on very nicely," said Hester, patently waiting for her to take her leave.

  But Betty saw something in Fanny's eyes that had never been there before, a bewildered look which made that normally very self-possessed lady look much younger, and so she said warmly, "That was indeed courteous of you, Fanny, and we shall have a comfortable coze while Hester entertains Captain Dunbray. Bella, ring for the tea tray. Now, Fanny, you must come over to this sofa with me and tell me all about your beaux."

  And it will be a test, thought Betty, for she is bound to talk about the Duke and how he is enamored of her and if I can listen to her without hurt, why then, it means my heart is not engaged.

  "I have no beaux," said Fanny, looking down at her hands. "There is that in me which repels people."

  Betty stared at her in amazement and then looked to Hester for help. But Hester was on the other side of the room, laughing at something Captain Dunbray was saying and had not heard a word. "My dear Fanny," said Betty, "you are overwrought. What has happened?"

  "Someone has frightened me."

  "Who?"

  "Myself. My mother."

  "Here is the tea tray, Fanny," said Betty. "Please have a dish of tea and compose yourself. Your hands are shaking so."

  "I had to come here," said Fanny in a low urgent voice. "I don't want to hate any more. But you must not think hard things of us . . . of us Bentleys. We were overwrought at Father's death. But not one of us would harm any of you. It is important that you realise that."

  It sounded to Betty that it was extremely important for Fanny herself to be convinced of that fact.

  "I . . ." began Betty, but was interrupted as Bella erupted into the room. She had been absent since she had left to summon the footman with the tea tray.

  "Help!" screamed Bella. "Oh, help! Lord Simon's nowhere to be found and his best suit o' clothes is missing."

  "Ask at the stables," cried Hester. "He has perhaps taken his pony out."

  "I asked everywhere," moaned Bella. "The servants have searched this house from attic to cellar and there's not hide nor hair of the lamb."

  Betty grasped Fanny's arm. "Do you know ought of this? Is that what you have been trying to tell me?"

  "No!" said Fanny. "What is this? The boy has surely gone to visit a friend."

  "He is six years old and he is in London," said Captain Dunbray grimly.

  "Find him," said Hester. "Oh, Captain Dunbray, please find him."

  "Lady Hester, I shall do my very best. I think the authorities ought to be alerted."

  "I shall go to the Park," said Betty. "Mayhap he might be there."

  "Not in this weather," said Captain Dun-bray. "I must leave you, ladies." He kissed Hester's hand and walked from the room. Hester ran after him, babbling instructions, calling to the servants.

  "If there is anything I can do?" asked Fanny.

  "Go home," said Betty grimly, "and ask your mother what she knows of this."

  Fanny went paper white. "Why, what should she . . . ?" But Betty had already run from the room.

  Betty was desperate for action, any kind of action. She put on her cloak and pulled a green silk calash over the superstructure of her hair and then stood irresolute, not knowing where to start. Then she remembered the Duke of Collingham saying, "Allow me to help you protect Simon." She forgot his pomposity, forgot his disapproval.

  She ran down the stairs, calling for a carriage, not stopping to explain to Hester where she was going or to take Bella with her.

  The Duke of Collingham had not slept when he had gone to bed, despite the fact that the hour was eight in the morning. He had tossed and turned and argued with his conscience which was trying to tell him that he had again been guilty of all the things for which he had reprimanded Simon. And Betty had looked at him with disdain. And Betty had somehow known exactly what he was thinking. Well, be damned to her! He should not be wasting his time in town.

  This was his first Season for some years. He should be back in the country, attending to the management of his estates. He prided himself on being a good landlord. His tenants were well-housed. His vast properties and lands were entirely agricultural. Not for him, the profits of the city slums. But, he confessed to himself, he had come to town to look for a wife, some high-bred lady to grace his table and supply him with sons.

  He did not believe in marrying for love or marrying for money. But he did think the English did not pay the same attention to breeding children as they did to breeding horses. He wished his wife to have an ancestry as old and noble as his own. Not some blacksmith's daughter with an impossible family.

  Finally he fell into a restless sleep and dreamed ghastly dreams. He was just leaving the altar of St. George's, Hanover Square with a suitably high-bred lady on his arm when he felt a chill draft about his nether limbs and, looking down, he found to his horror that he had forgotten to put on his breeches.

  He awoke with a start to find the lower part of his body was indeed uncovered, as his nightshirt had rucked up about his waist and the bedclothes had fallen on the floor.

  He rang for his morning chocolate and newspaper and studied the headlines with a jaundiced eye. It was really amazing how old King George managed to stay alive, but stay alive he did.

  His Swiss came in and began to move quietly about the room, laying out his master's clothes.


  The Duke put down the newspaper with a weary sigh. Perhaps he had been celibate overlong. He would mount a mistress and that would cure him of sighing after unsuitable virgins.

  He was in the process of dressing when a footman entered and delivered himself of the intelligence that Lord Westerby was below, awaiting His Grace's pleasure.

  "Westberby's in his grave," said the Duke, as his manservant tied a long robe over his master's clothes, preparatory to leading him to the powder closet and blowing powder over his hair.

  "This is a young boy, a very young boy, an it please Your Grace."

  "A young boy? Oh, that Lord Westerby. What the deuce does he want?"

  Then the Duke's lips curved in a mocking smile. Simon would not be unaccompanied, of course. Lady Betty had simply used the boy as a ruse to see him. She should know better than to call at a gentleman's residence, whether she were accompanied by a child or no.

  "Very well," said the Duke slowly, "I shall see Westerby. Put him in the morning room and serve him some refreshment—and also whoever is with him."

  The servant opened his mouth to say that the young lord was on his own, but the Duke was already entering the powder closet so he turned on his heel and went back downstairs.

  The Duke took his time over his toilette. After an hour and a half, it was a magnificent figure in silks and lace that descended the stairs and pushed open the door of the morning room.

  Only Simon was there, sitting beside an untouched tea tray, his cheeks stained with tears. The Duke felt a pang of deep disappointment.

  Then he felt ludicrous. Here he was, attired in all his glory, painted and patched and powdered. And all for a small boy.

  "Where is your aunt?" he demanded harshly.

  Simon cringed. "Which one, Your Grace?" he asked feebly.

  "Why, any of them?"

  "I came alone," said Simon in a low voice.

  Well, here's courage, thought the Duke, his face softening as he looked at the small, dismal figure.

  "You have eaten nothing, Lord Westerby," he said in a gentle voice. "But mayhap what you have to tell me has taken your appetite away. Suppose you tell me all about it. Zooks! Tis as cold as charity here." He pulled the bell and asked for a fire to be lit and when the flames were shooting up the chimney, he sat down opposite Simon.

  "Now, my young lord, why are you here?"

  Simon gulped and rose to his feet and stood before the Duke with his hands behind his back. "I am come to 'pologise for what I s-said last night. It seemed a funny thing to say. Aunt Hester does say things like that sometimes when she's mad, but never in company, Your Grace."

  Suddenly, to the Duke, the whole business seemed utterly ridiculous. He, a grown man, who heard much worse language on the hunting field from his peers, had jumped on his dignity because, it seemed, he could not behave normally when Lady Betty was around.

  "You are a very brave boy, nay, a gentleman," said the Duke. "You are forgiven by me, at any rate. I have yet to forgive myself for pokering up over such a trivial remark. I am surprised, however, that your aunts allowed you to venture out alone."

  "I did not tell them," said Simon.

  "Then I must send a footman . . ."

  "Lady Elizabeth Lovelace," announced the Duke's butler. Betty came hurrying in and stopped short at the sight of Simon. Eyes shining, she threw herself into the Duke's arms, crying, "Oh, you found him! I should have known you would find him!"

  The Duke put his arms around her and seized the opportunity to hug her close before he explained that, on the contrary, Simon had found him.

  Blushing, Betty released herself and turned and looked at Simon in amazement. "But Simon, what is the reason for this visit?"

  Simon hung his head.

  "It was merely a social visit, Lady Betty," said the Duke quickly. "I was about to send a footman to your residence with the news that Simon is here. Lady Hester will no doubt be worried, I shall send a man directly."

  He dispatched one of his footmen with a message.

  "What a family you are!" he laughed; as he turned back to Lady Betty and Simon. "Wandering around the streets of London unchaperoned. Well, Simon, Lord Westerby, you shall act chaperone to Lady Betty and myself. Come, Lady Betty, sit down by the fire and take some tea. Shall you be going to the ridotto at Vauxhall tonight?"

  Betty was glad to sit down. She felt weak with relief at finding Simon and rather weak every time she remembered how it felt to have the Duke's arms about her.

  "We were going to Vauxhall," she said, "but only look at the weather! Simon will not be able to see the fireworks, for we will be unable to go outside the Rotunda if the rain continues."

  "Perhaps it may clear," he said, "or I shall have to find other means of spending the evening in your delightful company."

  "Your Grace! You are flirting with me!"

  "I am in earnest, Lady Betty."

  Betty looked down shyly and played with the sticks of her fan. All the hurt of the evening before had disappeared. There was a warmth in his green eyes which was doing strange things to her heart. Then she remembered her dream and blushed even more deeply.

  The Duke felt he had gone far enough and began to talk easily of this and that while Simon, much recovered, drank tea and ate as many cakes as he could, since he had left without breakfast.

  The drizzle had changed to drenching rain driven by a high wind. The fire crackled cheerfully on the hearth and the rain drummed against the window and Betty thought romantically how natural it all seemed that she and Simon should be sitting beside the fire, drinking tea and listening to the Duke's light, lazy voice.

  There was a sudden commotion in the hall and then the door of the morning room was hurled back and Hester stood like an avenging angel of the threshold, her eyes flashing at the sight of the cozy scene presented by her sister, the Duke and Simon.

  Betty sprang to her feet. "Is it not marvelous, Hester? Simon was here the whole time. The silly boy took it into his head to make a social call."

  "Come along, Betty," ordered Hester, "before you give his high and mighty grace food for further sneering."

  "But Hester, we are much beholden to His Grace. . . ."

  "Beholden, Odd's Fish! I went around to Mrs. Bentley's with Fanny to see if Simon might be there or if she had done aught to harm him. He wasn't, but she told me with that nasty smile of hers that Collingham had been overheard saying to Captain Dun-bray that we—that's you and me, Betty—were as common as the barber's chair."

  "Fie, for shame, Hester," said Betty. "Mrs. Bentley is full of spite. It is not like you to give credence to what she says." She turned a laughing face to the Duke who was standing rigidly, one arm leaning on the marble mantel. "Tell her it is not true," said Betty. "As if you would say such a thing."

  "I am afraid I did say just that," said the Duke in a low voice, not looking at her. "You see, how it came about . . ."

  "Ooooh!" said Betty. "You are just as pompous and horrible and cruel as I always thought. Come, Simon."

  "Lady Betty," said the Duke, "allow me but a few moments of your time and I will endeavour . . ."

  "A few moments of your time? Let me tell you, sirrah, you will no longer be granted one second of my time." And seizing Simon, she all but dragged him from the room.

  Outside, the rain had ceased and a thin watery sunlight was struggling through the clouds.

  "Good," said Hester. "We shall be able to go to Vauxhall after all and forget that such beasts as Collingham exist."

  "Yes, indeed," said Betty. "We shall have a marvelous time." And with that she burst into tears.

  After Hester had departed, Mrs. Bentley dropped her smile and her calm poise. "Are we to be plagued all our lives by these Westerbys?" she demanded of her daughter, Fanny.

  "No," said Fanny slowly. "Surely we have enough money. We could find a place of our own, Mama, and not be beholden to them. In that way we could rid ourselves of the Westerbys."

  "You have run mad," said Mrs. Bentley coldly
. "They shall pay and pay for James's death while there is still breath left in my body."

  "Revenge is a taxing, unrewarding and wearisome thing," said Fanny flatly. "It should be done through a court of law or not at all. Personal revenge leads to disaster."

  "I think the company of a certain Sir Anthony has muddled poor Fanny's brains as much as the amount she drank," sneered Frederica.

  Fanny sprang across the room like a tigress and, seizing hold of her sister, shook her till her teeth rattled. "Don't," panted Fanny breathlessly, "don't ever dare mock me again." And with a final shake she threw her sister down on a chair where she lay sobbing.

  Mrs. Bentley's small curved smile deepened. Dear Fanny had not changed so much after all . . .

  The English weather had gone in for one of its mercurial changes, a stiff breeze had blown the rain clouds away and dried the puddles in the street and by the time the Westerby carriage rumbled over the new Westminster Bridge in the direction of Vauxhall Gardens, London was spread out under a pale violet evening sky, pricked by the first stars.

  Vauxhall Gardens lay on the Surreyside, two miles from town along a well guarded road. The Gardens were a quadrangular grove of twelve acres of closely planted trees. Four principal alleys, crossed by lesser roads at right angles, ran through the trees. In the clearances were Grecian columns, alcoves, theaters, temples, a rotunda, an orchestra and an area for dancing. Vauxhall was unusual in that it cut across the class lines, attracting the members of all classes.

  The ridotto, such as the one to be held that evening, had been introduced to London in 1722 when the first one was held at the Opera House in the Haymarket. It was "an entertainment, or social assembly, consisting of music and dancing." This ridotto was to be attended by some 10,000 people. There were to be fireworks and the Rotunda was to be lit by 5,000 glass lamps.

  Hester and Betty, with all these treats in store, would never for a moment have dreamed of leaving Simon at home. He and Bella were in high spirits. Hester and Betty were somber, both lost in bitter contemplation over the nastiness of certain men.